drug
by trashlady
Summary: She's passion, she's hate, she's Doctor Outer Space. Dr. Sotz is a First Order phytochemist finishing work on a combat drug who finds herself roped into an implausible plot by Kylo Ren to enhance his Force power. Hopefully that asshole won't break all of her cool science machines.
1. unwanted attention

trashlady: i tried not to do this, but i am trash. it's in my name.

* * *

For the record, Doctor Meliriava Sotz never sympathized with the First Order. To be fair, though, she also never sympathized with the New Republic, and by extension, the Resistance.

She would never say that she had been taken from her home, like the legions of Stormtroopers she watched scurry around Starkiller Base- she preferred terms like "conscripted" and "shanghaied" to describe the beginning of her enlistment. She was replaceable, but not immediately so, so she watched her step- barely. She did her job, providing the First Order just as much data and research as she did sarcasm and lip.

Dr. Sotz breathed in the sharp, cold air of Starkiller Base's atmosphere, sitting on one of the many balcony-like overwatches and watching neat lines of Stormtroopers march to and fro on the platforms below. Vastly indifferent towards anything that wasn't her work, she never bothered much to learn about any of the white-armored soldiers, even the six assigned as her "personal guard" (a glamour title, really, as she knew well enough that their purpose was to keep her from fleeing into the night). She watched the perfect lines suddenly separate, in perfect step, as a storming black figure stomped through the center of the trooper-lined platform. The sight of Kylo Ren hurriedly and angrily traipsing through Starkiller Base was not an uncommon one- almost as common as the sight of his temper, which apparently flared easily. In the officer's dining chambers, Dr Sotz often heard stony-faced commanders and captains growl lowly about what new things had been damaged that day by the black knight and his red saber. She considered herself fortunate that Ren had no need to visit the research and development laboratories, placing her expensive and precious machines at risk.

A small chill ran through her spine- something other than the cold, snow-filled air. On the platform below, the dark figure that was the Knight of Ren stopped in his tracks, most certainly frightening the Stormtroopers closest to him along the platform's edges. Slowly he turned, black robes billowing softly in the chilly breeze, and the smooth black metal of his mask lifted up menacingly to stare right at… oh, god, right at her. Surprise won the battle over her normal apathy, and her kohl-rimmed grey eyes stared back widely. She could see a few confused Stormtroopers follow the mask's gaze and looked up at her also. No, no, this would not do, she thought to herself, forcing her rational apathy back into her mind. Unable to break the gaze, she carefully slunk backwards towards the door. As soon as she was inside, she hurriedly fled to the sanctuary of her laboratory.

The cold room was dark and empty when she returned. Her research team must have gone to lunch, or something. She flipped the lights on, breathing in the sterile air that was so comforting to her. Her well-worn equipment lined the long table- vortex shakers, centrifuges, pipettes of varying channels and sizes. Many different machines, each with unique and specific functions, whirred softly. Exhaling softly, Meliriava ran a hand gently over the nearest one, comforted by the faint sound of electricity running through its hardware. She walked over to one of the large freezers along the wall, opening it and closing her eyes momentarily as the even colder air washed over her. The neat organization of the reagents inside was as soothing as everything else in the lab, and she was proud of the great pains she took to maintain an effective and comprehensive storage system. Closing the door, she pressed her back against it, letting the stillness of her kingdom wash over her. Here, she was truly at peace.

* * *

trashlady: oooh kylo ren spoooooky


	2. contract

The next morning, Meliriava arrived to her laboratory early, as she always did, the events of yesterday already fading from her mind. Surprisingly, two members of her research team were already there, preparing reagent mixes and extracts for the day's work.

"Doctor Sotz," they both greeted in unison.

"VT-3529, KG-7463," she said. Unlike her, the subordinates on her research team were technically Stormtroopers, though in their training an aptitude for scientific research had been discovered and they had been transferred to a smaller academy that churned out non-combat troopers designed to perform engineering, research, and other such tasks.

"What are we doing today?" VT asked, her wild black hair already escaping from the regulation bun (which Meliriava never wore in the first place herself, regulation be damned). Relatively new to the lab, VT's wide, bright eyes were always shining at the feeling of freedom of not being confined to the white armor of the Stormtroopers.

Meliriava drew her notebook from atop one of the freezers. "We're doing some final test runs on the BR53-RK project," she replied. "And then we're going to have to start theorizing mass-production tactics."

The BR53-RK project was one that had been in the research and development phase for a few years, before VT had even started in the lab and just before KG had started. The First Order was very interested in performance enhancements to increase the effectiveness of their ground combat troops, and it was from this desire that BR53-RK was born. Meliriava had overseen every step of the project. It was primarily an adrenaline-booster that also blocked certain pain receptors in the brain, allowing an individual to greatly surpass normal strength limitations while simultaneously numbing them to extreme pain- theoretically, a bullet could rip through several vital organs, and the victim wouldn't feel a thing. Meliriava had warned the Order's officials that this wouldn't stop complications such as hemorrhaging and fatal tissue damage, but they had waved her concerns and demanded the product anyway. She had assumed that the intended use was to create a "go-down-swinging" monster of a trooper, who would die after he or she had obliterated unimaginable waves of enemies.

There had been several iterations of the project before this final product, BR-53RK, was formulated. The most difficult obstacle Meliriava had found was trying to mitigate the stress of the mass amount of adrenaline on the heart. The drug had created such an influx of the hormone that it elevated the heart rate to dangerous levels that infallibly led to organ rupture within minutes of injection. Eventually, she had found that including a proportional amount of atropine slowed the heart rate while still allowing the body to produce great amounts of adrenaline. The neuroinhibitors were also problematic, but that was simply a matter of tinkering with their potency- too little and it had no real effect, too much and there was a high risk of complications in the cerebellum and brain stem, or total body numbness, or irreversible nerve damage. Not as complex as the heart rate problem, which Meliriava took great pride in having solved.

The BR53-RK serum seemed to have all the desired effects and minimal, if any, of the undesired ones. It had been in the testing phase for about a year, and it had successfully held up in each trial. Today would be a few final tests and some wrap-up work, and Meliriava would then write her report on the project to submit to the top tier of the First Order. Snoke, or whoever it was that advised him on things of this nature, would then decide how to proceed with clinical and combat trials. The team's job would then be finding a way to successfully mass-produce the drug for use. Once that method was created, it would be sent to a large-scale production facility overseen by the Order and issued to troops.

The rest of Meliriava's team filtered into the laboratory within the next hour, some working on general chemical isolation, and others repeating final tests with Meliriava. By the time the lunch break rolled around, she was immensely satisfied with the collected data. In her small office connected to the main laboratory room, she was comparing the data from the different trials on her holo-desk, proud of the consistencies and minimal outliers.

"Dr. Sotz!" She looked up to see VT standing in the doorway. "We… we're going lunch! Are you going to come with us?"

"No. I'm going to start on the report."

"Come on, VT," FG-0089, another researcher, said. "Doctor Sotz _always_ works though lunch."

Meliriava stared at him and dryly said, "I don't think I gave you permission to observe me, Fig." There were three FGs on the team, necessitating nicknames for them. Fig just grinned back in response- Meliriava's general disregard for authority had rubbed off on her inferiors. The general lack of officer presence in the laboratory units relegated this to a non-issue, though. She turned back to the holo-projected data, barely noticing as the rest of the team left. _Might as well dismiss them for the rest of the day when they get back_ , she thought. _We can work on production theories tomorrow._ She began typing what would inevitably be a long report on a large datapad. No matter how much she thought it would be a good idea, she never seemed to start the reports early. She closed her eyes wearily. The first few sections could easily be written ahead of time- a summary of what the drug did from the macro to the cellular level, its components, and things of that nature. The only things that had to be written after final trials were a summary of actual effects and then transcripts of the collected data. Oh, well. It was just a few hours of hard typing.

She opened her eyes again at the clicking sound of the door opening. One of the researchers must have forgotten something. Disregarding it, she looked back down at the report that was slowly blossoming on her datapad. A shadow in the doorway caused her to pause. _My researchers aren't that tall_ , she thought as she jerked her head up- and froze.

There, in the doorway to her office, was Kylo Ren.

The glossy black mask stared in her direction menacingly and Meliriava felt the same cold pricking in her spine that she had experiences just yesterday.

"Master Ren," she finally said. "This is… unprecedented."

"Doctor Meliriava Sotz," he addressed her in a heavily-augmented voice. "No official First Order designation. You were not trained as one of the Order."

"Was it my constant stream of success at my job that gave that away? Sir?" she responded flatly. Suddenly the air around her seemed to tighten around her body.

"I am here to investigate a potential case of insubordination, and your… sarcasm is not helping you," he said, the voice augmenter betraying no change in tone.

"What grounds are you investigating on? Sir?" Not one to be intimidated, Meliriava measured her voice so that she, too, displayed no change in tone.

"A measure of… disrespect in your thoughts was detected-"

"You can just say you read my thoughts, sir. It's very rude, but it's not a secret." The air squeezed a little tighter.

"In _addition_ ," he continued, "to multiple minor infractions including refusal to adhere to the dress code and unwillingness to comply with requests of officers."

"Technically, I hold an officer rank." Speaking was getting a little difficult with the tightness constricting her. "Not all officers outrank me, thus, I am not compelled to comply."

"Don't explain the chain of command to me."

"Sir, if you could please not do… whatever this is." After a long, tense silence, the air loosened and she was able to breathe effectively again.

"Your cases of insubordination are concerning considering the circumstances of your… conscription, as you call it."

"If you are investigating my possible treason, _sir_ , I can assure you that I have no desire to defect. Though the series of events that led to my… tenure with the First Order are less than desirable, I have come to see it as a mutually beneficial relationship. The Order allows me the freedom to delve into research that interests me that I am… discouraged from pursuing at other establishments." She didn't feel any constriction again, so she assumed that this was acceptable. "Now then, Master Ren. If you don't mind, there is a four-year project that we are on the precipice of releasing for practical use-"

Unfortunately, instead of leaving, the knight stepped into the office. "This is the berserker serum lab." It wasn't a question.

Meliriava had heard the unofficial trade name for her project floating around Starkiller, though she herself never used it and chastised her team if they did so. "BR53-RK is the name of the drug," she replied stiffly. "And I am compiling the final report on it to submit to Snoke. Supreme Leader," she quickly corrected herself.

Kylo Ren placed his gloved hands on the holodesk and leaned forward. "Literally everywhere else but this lab calls it the berserker serum," he said, unwilling to let her win. "How does it work?"

"Well, we've simulated a very strong compound very similar to epinephrine, to allow a massive surge in adrenaline, and we use isolated atropine to mitigate the deterioration to the cardiac tissue caused by the resulting tachycardia-"

"What I should have said," he interrupted, "was what does it do?"

"It's an adrenaline booster," she explained, "that allows users to ignore pain and achieve a heightened state of physical power-"

"Would it allow a heightened strength of the Force?"

"Of the… what? The Force?" Her exasperation got the best of her. "Is the Force powered by adrenaline, Master Ren?! Is the Force an actual biochemical process in the body that we can pump hormones into and make it do what we want? Is the Force something that can just be, just be augmented by tricking your body with chemicals?" She was standing now, pacing. "We play with the body by using chemicals, but the body is made of systems that run on the chemicals, which is why it works. We can't just, we can't just control things that have no _system_ to tweak." Her hands began gesturing randomly, a habit usually kept in check by the stoicism that had been abandoned at the mention of the Force. "We, science, we specialize in the quantifiable, not… whatever the Force is…" She couldn't say that the Force didn't exist, but it wasn't something that fit into the realm of science- of measurements, of data, of systematic study.

Surprisingly, Kylo Ren had remained silent during the tirade- no interruptions, no outbursts, just simply standing by as Meliriava angrily paced the small room and babbled more to herself than to him. Once her stream of chatter had faded (though not the pacing), he spoke. "Could you make something that magnified Force aptitude?"

She stopped, turned to him, and threw her hands to the ceiling. "Did you hear any of that? Of what I just said?! There's no chemical _system_ -"

"Have you ever heard of the midichlorian theory?" The wrinkling of her nose and confused narrowing of her eyes indicated that she had not. "It's a theory used by the Jedi of the Old Republic." She could have sworn that there had been a change in his voice when he said "Jedi."

"Oh, the Old Republic, _wonderful_ ," she said sourly. "Because there are so many surviving records from the Jedi of that time!" The invisible hand squeezed her again.

"You are testing my patience, Dr. Sotz," Kylo Ren said quietly, stepping around the desk to walk up to her. "Some records from that time still exist, recovered by the Empire and now held by the First Order. They are highly classified, highly restricted, but they do still exist." The invisible hand loosened once more. "I am ordering you to study the texts and then create a drug to enhance Force proficiency."

Meliriava bit her lip. ''I'll need access to the texts."

"You will have them tomorrow."

"It might not be possible."

"Concern yourself with that after you study."

"Why _me_?"

There was a pause. "The berserker serum is highly anticipated. You are the project leader, so I reviewed some of your prior work."

"It's all biochemical weaponry and performance enhancement-"

"You've been behind several landmark projects involving cellular-level manipulation. If the midichlorian theory is as I understand it, that puts it within the area that you by far surpass our other research teams in. The Supreme Leader is very confident in this lab," he added.

"So Snoke- sorry, the Supreme Leader- recommended me?"

"I-" He whirled away from her. "Not exactly."

Meliriava was well-versed in subversive projects. "He's got no idea you want to do this."

He faced her again, and she wished he would take off the goddamn mask. It made this whole close encounter so much more… threatening. "This is a private project. Classified. _Extremely_ classified."

"Sure, fine, classified. If there's even anything I can do."

"You will have all the documentation tomorrow," he said, breezing out of the office. Once he had left the laboratory, Meliriava sank back into her chair. That had been a wild ride, and that had not been how she expected the conversation to end. She drummed her fingers on her desk, thinking about the request Ren had made. A drug to enhance Force use. Was such a thing possible? The plausibility would really all come down to how the Force actually worked, which hopefully this "midichlorian theory" was able to explain. Damn it, now her interest was piqued. She really wanted to get her hands on those texts _now_. With a sharp sigh, she looked back at the beginnings of her BR53-RK report, accepting that she could only devote partial focus to it as a large portion of her mind began to prematurely synthesize potential drug formulas. Her fingers were poised about the keyboard of her datapad, and she hadn't even resumed typing before the door clicked open once more. _For fuck's sake, what now?!_

Thankfully, it was just her team, returning from lunch, and not another unexpected inquisition. Her brow furrowed. The conversation with Kylo Ren must have taken longer than she had thought, as the team usually took their time eating.

"Boss lady!" One of the lab's other FGs, FG-1020, popped into her office. "Boss lady. You'll never guess who we saw storming through the halls!"

"Fang, please," she said sternly. "Conduct yourself."

"It was Ren! He was here, he's never been here before!" Fig, VT, and the others clustered behind him, staring into her office. "Why was he down here?! Did he break shit? Did you see him?"

"He was so scary," VT breathed.

"Fang, _please_ ," Meliriava reiterated. "Kylo Ren was here to discuss business, as I wish _the rest of you would do_." She eyed them implicatively.

The passel of scientists quieted down and looked at each other. _Yes, that's right, I called you all unprofessional_ , she thought smugly.

Fang backed out of the office, pushing the others further back with him. Suddenly, he turned to face his compatriots. "Boss lady's got a boyfriend!"

"Fang, what the _hell_!"

"Business, business, right, Doc?" Fig asked, with an exaggerated wink. "We all know what business means."

"Fig, don't you dare encourage him-"

"Doc Sotz got the hots! Doc Sotz got the hots!" ML-5487 began chanting.

"Aww, Doctor Sotz!" VT chirped, clapping her hands together, realizing the game and wanting to play along too. "You've found a Mr Tall Dark and Mysterious of your own!"

"I swear to god, I will send each and every one of you to reconditioning!" Meliriava shouted, kicking her seat back and storming after her incorrigible underlings. "What the hell is wrong with you? _All_ of you!" Laughing, the team scattered as their frustrated superior chased them, yelling stern chastisements and aggressively waving her finger. They knew the reconditioning was a false threat- it was Meliriava herself and her disregard for rules and authority that had helped them break conditioning in the first place, and reporting any of her own subordinates for behavioral infractions would mean that the eyes of the Order's officers would turn to the lab and to her, watching for further incidents.

The research team, headed by Fig, Fang, and the other FG- Freight- continued to dance around and taunt their principal investigator, always happy to get any kind of rise out of the usually-stoic Meliriava. It was a good several minutes of fun before, still laughing, they congregated back near Meliriava's office and gently guided the still-prickling woman to her chair.

"In… in all seriousness, boss," Fang wheezed, still catching his breath. "Why was he here? Did he break anything?"

Meliriava sniffed haughtily, herself still calming down. "Apparently," she said, waving away the crowd that had gathered behind her desk, "I'm being investigated for possible insubordination." Not that she was really concerned about that part, but Ren's proposed project… well, she'd like to keep that to herself until more details had been fleshed out. Better stick with that part, which wasn't technically a lie, according to the first half of her dialogue with Ren.

She was not expecting a hush to fall so suddenly over her team. The light atmosphere of mirth and joy shattered almost instantly, replaced by a tense silence and the stares of several wide eyes.

"That's bad, boss," Fang finally said.

"If they put you on the watchlist, that's not good, 'specially not for someone like you, Doc," ML added. Before she could demand what that meant, VT chimed in.

"You're not trained like we were, Doctor," she said softly. "You're not conditioned like we are. You're like… a variable to the Order. That's dangerous to them."

"I've worked here for almost a decade, and that's never been an issue."

"Yeah, but whatever got you investigated, combined with that…" KG paused. "And then also add in the fact that, well, you aren't too great with the COC- I'm just saying you aren't the best with following direct orders!" he hastily explained as his supervisor glared.

"Your concerns are all touching-" Meliriava's voice did not convey that feeling at all- "but I have already assured Master Ren that my arrangement here is of mutual benefit, and that I have no reason to depart from my position." The silence informed her that they were still not reassured.

Deciding to disregard what she considered to be an unbased fear, Meliriava furiously worked on the BR53-RK report, determined to get it out of the way so that she could begin reading the midichlorian texts as soon as they were available to her. Despite the mound of protests she had lain at Kylo Ren's feet, secretly she was intrigued by the concept- the idea of midichlorians (whatever they were), and the idea of taming them (if it was possible). With the limited amount of information available to the public, she imagined that she would be the first person in ages- if ever!- to crack the secrets of these midichlorians. Pausing from her work, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to bask in the potential future glory of such a feat. The accolades, the fame, the _satisfaction_! Fire brimming in her grey eyes, she returned to the report with renewed vigor. Once this was done, it was just a matter of waiting.

* * *

trashlady: the intention is to make this kylo X oc, but it really looks like oc X science.

trashlady: i 100% honestly give no fucks about how much people like this story, Meli is just really fun for me to write.


	3. expectation

The next morning, Meliriava was wide awake before her alarm ever rang. If Ren's word was reliable, the midichlorian texts would be hers today. She tossed herself out of the twin bed, almost ramming in to the bookshelf five feet away against the opposite wall- a daily occurrence due to the fiery energy attempting to exist in such a small space- and hurriedly threw on the simple black shirt and pants that was part of her everday uniform beneath her beloved white lab coat. Kicking her way into the small attached bathroom, she angrily dragged a brush through her long black hair with one hand while assaulting her teeth with a different kind of brush with the other. Muttering swears at the close walls for their unkind handling of her elbows, she finished with her brushes and threw some water on her face before unskillfully smudging her stick of kohl across her eyelids. Was it necessary? No. Did she like the almost-barbaric look of pseudo-warpaint on her face? Absolutely. The dark framing made her grey irises seem even paler, even more frightening, she thought, and she believed that this served as a nice deterrent to unnecessary interactions with others. Sticking some hairbands in her pocket, she darted out of her room, messily braiding her hair as she ran towards her laboratory.

Thanks to the length of her hair- dammit, one day she would cut it off- she only had one braid in place by the time she arrived to her cold sanctuary, not yet lit for the day. Starting on her second braid, she navigated the light switches with her still-sore elbows and burst into her small office. The datapad stared at her, taunting her with its unknown gifts, as she rapidly finished braiding her hair- dammit, this always took too long. It felt like an eternity, but she finally managed to finish the braid and pin it into its loop. Once that was secured, she snatched at the device like a starving zoo animal at a long-awaited slab of meat. She wanted to scream as it took its time turning on, as if it sensed her urgency and wanted to drag every possible inch of suffering out of her. Finally, it activated, and she roughly punched in her terminal access code.

No new messages.

 _What the_ \- she stared dumbly at the empty inbox.

Nothing. No documents. No texts. Not even a message apologizing for what had been a blatant LIE from Kylo Ren. She smashed a button commanding the inbox to refresh.

Still empty.

She smashed the button again.

Still empty.

Dropping the datapad back onto her desk, she barely bit back the scream welling in the back of her throat. The world around her began to narrow as her vision tunneled. She stumbled out of her office- suddenly the room seemed so much smaller than it had in the past, the walls so much closer. The sterile air of the laboratory, usually a comfort, was now somehow stagnant and oppressive. Meliriava gasped and began hyperventilating, trying to breathe, but her lungs simply refused to absorb any oxygen from the air. Dizzy, she clumsily fought her way to the door, unable to prevent herself from repeatedly slamming into the fridges and tables on either side of her.

The hallway that she had just been in seemed suddenly alien as her senses altered themselves to her new, panicked perspective. She couldn't feel herself, any parts of her own body, but suddenly she was more aware of the harsh lighting, the sound of the air filters, the presence of her silent and distant bodyguards.

"Doctor," one of the guards said, surprised.

Ignoring him, Meliriava forced her numb body quickly through the winding passages of the precinct, shoving past patrolling Stormtroopers, who shouted angrily in response, though their words had ceased to have meaning to her ears. She watched her feet flutter beneath her, but she couldn't feel their impact on the floor with each heavy step. The metallic walls around her seemed to be melting before her darting eyes. Squeezing them shut, she smashed into a door and out into the cold, snowy air.

The wind whipped around her, much angrier than it had been the previous day. The sun had barely begun to illuminate the boreal forest that typified the surface of planet-turned-weapon, and the chill of the night was still sharp. Without a second thought, she threw herself onto the cold steel platform, spreading her arms out to maximize her contact with the frozen surface. One by one Meliriava felt her senses find their ways back to her, shocked back into being by the frigidity of the atmosphere. Her ragged breaths still stabilizing, she glanced back at the door to find a small gathering of her "honor guard" staring at her in their identically expressionless white masks. Usually an unseen force, despite their eternal humming on the fringe of Meliriava's existence, at this moment there were no less than three of the invisible watchdogs there, watching her splay out on the cold metal.

"That's a little impressive," one said- was that a semblance of _humor_ she heard? Or was she still confused in the thrall of her anxiety, the disease still warping her reality? It was surreal enough that they were addressing her directly with something more than her title or name, the only vocal interaction these troopers had ever attempted in the almost ten years they had been assigned as her wardens – until today, apparently.

Another trooper held a comm link up to its masked face. "She seems to be lucid again, sir," it said, so smoothly and professionally that discerning gender was impossible. The link crackled a response, but Meliriava couldn't make out the reply through the static. "Right away, sir." Lowering the comm, its helmet tipped ever so slightly to regard the prone woman. "Doctor, are you… alright, now?"

The first trooper turned to the second. "That's almost an _hour_ out here without PPE, Snipes, she's gotta go to the med wing or something-"

" _How_ long?" Meliriava pushed herself up defiantly- at least, that was the intention, but apparently the sensation in her limbs was some kind of phantom feeling, as all four of her extremities were numb and unresponsive in a way quite different than earlier. Her graceful rise ended up much less regal than planned, as her arms slipped out from underneath her and she crashed back down. Instantly, the first trooper and the silent third were on either side of her, each grabbing and arm and together hoisting her up to her feet. The sharp sensation of needlepoints flooded her legs, and she wobbled in surprise and pitched forward. The troopers caught her.

"You've been out here 'bout an hour, doctor," the chatty trooper informed her, as they half-escorted/half-dragged her back inside of the base. "And that white coat probably isn't that warm." A correct assumption- the laboratory coat was barely more substantial than the thin black clothes underneath it. " _I_ think y'outta go see a medic or something- I wanted to take you in before, but we've been advised to, uh… let you ride out your episodes."

The heated interior was such a sharp contrast to the frigid outside- it was kept at an even, comfortable room temperature, but after so long in the chill, the mild air hit Meliriava's thawing skin like a blast of fire and she felt beads of sweat begin forming all over her body.

The second trooper, leading the others, turned back to face the doctor, who was slowly returning her weight back to her own prickling legs. "The medical bay will have to wait, doctor. You're to return back to your laboratory. Will you require further assistance?"

Now fully supporting herself with the barest minimum of success, Meliriava straightened her white coat, attempting to regain her stoicism. "That will be _all_ , trooper," she replied sternly. "And this is not to be spoken of again." Struggling to control her still-pained legs, she wobbly stalked off down the hallway, hoping she didn't look as ungainly as she felt. She knew that the troopers would follow her- at a distance- back to their stations outside of the laboratory, and she was grateful for whatever protocol kept them from interacting with her (barring extenuating circumstances, which the earlier events seemed to fall under). The hallways were still empty, and Meliriava used the opportunity to re-coordinate her body, not wanting to appear as anything less than in complete control when she returned to her sanctum.

When she reached the door to her laboratory, a sense of relief flooded her- as she always felt when she arrived here, to her palace. With a small sigh, she pushed open the door-

-to find her team standing smartly at the benches, stiff and straight, with wide eyes painfully focused on individual tasks. Hearing the door open, they turned to stare at her, the whites of each pair of eyes unnervingly sending a panicked message that she could not read. VT, the closest to the door, was wound tighter than a tourniquet on an amputee, and looked as if she would snap in half at the slightest spook. Meliriava saw her lips move in some silent plea, but the overwhelming tension in the room was so distracting that she wasn't able to understand.

Meliriava didn't like tension. She liked to be in control, but jittery scientists were clumsy scientists, and she believed that unnecessary stress was not conducive to a productive laboratory. This tension was robbing her of the serenity of her sanctum, and she would not stand for that. "Unless someone broke my data pad," she said firmly, sweeping her arm across the room, "this whole… _thing_ is unnecessary." They remained silent and scared. She frowned. "Someone broke my data pad."

"Doctor Sotz, ma'am," Fig said from the other side of the room, with uncharacteristic formality. "You have a guest in your office. Ma'am!"

"What is this, basic training?" She growled, striding over to him. As she neared, she could see that his brown hair was thickly matted with sweat. Her frown deepened.

"It is unprofessional to keep a commanding officer waiting, ma'am!" Fang interjected, with the same creepy programmed formality that each of her team had once possessed, when each had first joined her laboratory. "Not to speak out of turn! Ma'am!"

Meliriava threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but fine! Whatever! If it will _calm you all down_ , I will _go into my office_ and see to this _guest_!" With agitated force, she threw open the heavy door to her small room.

Like a silent black shadow, Kylo Ren sat menacingly behind her desk.

* * *

trashlady: anxiety is so fun isn't it

trashlady: in other news, i encourage you to investigate the "report abuse" function that fan fiction dot net provides. at the bottom of a story page, there's a little button that says "Actions" with a little up-pointing arrow.

trashlady: i support the removal of all non-stories from the story section of fan fiction dot net. like, come on, guys. be fucking adults.

trashlady: in further news, this story is actually really fun to write because i accidentally made meli too much like me. i'm glad some of y'all are enjoying it too.


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